Hit
by Headbanger Rockstar
Summary: Agents are dying and Tony & Gibbs are digging for answers. Can they figure out what is going on and who is responsible before they become the killer's next victims? Slash Gibbs/Tony, Jenny/Kort, rated for content (sexual, language, violence). Kind of dark, pretty twisted. Rated M. WIP. AU, but Hiatus/Season 4 Themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own any of the characters, copyrights, trademarks, etc of NCIS. I am merely pulling them out to play with and will gladly return them when I'm finished. Only the idea is mine.**

 **Author's Note:** I don't think I have to tell y'all that I sometimes dream up some really wacked out twisted stories. This promises to be one of them. Surprising twists and turns ahead, out of character behavior, several little scenes that the kiddies don't need to read (rated for sexual content, language and violence)…I ran the idea by Goats whose response was "That is so twisted. You're going to write it, right?" So yeah. Here we go. Hold onto your hats, folks! This is the first (and hopefully ONLY) Season 4 fic I ever plan to write. Don't worry if you have questions—that's intentional.

 **Episode** Spoilers: Eh…vague references to Hiatus and Season 4…but it's vague. You have to squint to see it.

 _Special thanks to my wonderful beta, Gotgoats, for encouraging my twisted weirdness hahaha_

 **Hit  
** **Chapter 1  
** By Headbanger Rockstar

Searcy O'Flannagan had seen some crazy things in her day. Seventy-one years on this earth had shown her love, loss, babies being born, old friends passing on. She'd seen hope, she'd seen it fail, she'd seen pain and watched it be overcome. She'd seen drugs dealt, bought, made, sold, used as currency, used as a weapon. She'd seen sex used in the same ways. She'd seen lies, betrayal, honesty, desperation…she'd experienced all of those at least once. She knew the rain would make her joints hurt, and the sun would burn her eyes. Her hair had faded from spun gold to the color of dried out straw, her blue eyes were clear, twinkling with wisdom and mischief. The wrinkles on her face told of years of smiling and laughter. The darkness in her gaze told of a life lived hard, a graduate of the School of Hard Knocks. She hoarded money like a pauper, but spent it like a prince. Her children moved away years ago, and her Lonnie had died just last year. Her friends checked on her at least once a day, making sure she had enough milk in her refrigerator, making sure there was coffee, making sure she had someone to talk to.

She pushed her laundry cart along, checking each motel room carefully. Despite the clientele, she worked hard to make each room as comfortable and clean as possible. Other employees scoffed at her dedication, but Searcy was hired nearly 50 years ago to do a job. This job. Back in the 60s the hotel had seen a much finer population, though still intermingled with all of the strife and bad habits that the motel hid within its walls even now. She'd been hired as a housekeeper, told to keep the rooms presentable and welcoming to visitors. That was her job, her position, her station in life. And she loved her job. She enjoyed writing their stories in her head. She'd look around the room, walls barely standing after the previous evening's couplings, and she'd try to figure out the story. Where had it started? Where did it move? Was it just inside the door or closer to the bed? A pillow was on the floor—did they screw each other there? In some kinky position? Did they throw the pillow off the bed in haste because it was in the way? She'd grow their stories in her head, amusing herself until her shift was over, when she'd go home and write them all down.

It surprised everyone in her circle that Searcy still worked in the little corner motel near the highway. She'd worked there since the 60s, back when sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll had swept the nation and taken its youth with it. She'd seem people come and go, hookers, businessmen, married couples looking for a wild night. She'd been there, seen it, done it, heard of it, and could write lessons on life that would boggle the minds of any person who stopped and chatted with her long enough to receive the learning. Her job was in housekeeping; she'd cleaned up after all sorts of heinous activities. There was evidence of drugs, abuse of every variety, affairs, unsavory behavior, you name it; she'd seen it all.

Or at least she thought she'd seen it all.

xxx

NCIS Director Jennifer Sheppard flopped bonelessly back onto the bed and rolled her head to the side. A slow smile dragged itself across her face and her eyes twinkled with mischief. Next to her, CIA Agent Trent Kort lit a cigarette.

"Gotta tell ya one thing, Madam Director," he smiled, "you're one hell of a lay."

She slapped him roughly across the face. "I told you not to refer to me by my title when we're in public you dumb shit," she snapped. She pushed herself up on an elbow and snatched the cigarette out of her lover's lips and took a healthy drag off of it.

Trent smiled wolfishly. "I like it when you get rough." His voice was still rough with sex.

Jenny reached over and grabbed hold of Trent's used tool and squeezed it. Just as he was about to lodge a complaint about how tightly she was now gripping him, she ramped it up a notch and dug in her nails. "How's this for rough?" she asked. "I own you. You're mine."

Trent, despite delicate parts of his anatomy being held in what could easily become a bear trap, snickered. "Doubtful," he plucked the cigarette out of her mouth and took his own drag off of it.

She arched an eyebrow at the implied challenge. "That a fact?" she asked. "What would you do…better question, what would your superiors do, if it suddenly got out that you'd raped the Director of NCIS? A federal agency? A high ranking government official? Why, I'd wager they'd have your head on a silver platter."

"This is neither the time, nor the place for either of us to begin quoting the Gospels," Kort said tightly. "And I think I'm going to call your bluff. Besides. How could you possibly benefit from this?"

"Well, if you do what I ask you to, then there are many ways for me to reap some benefits. If you don't…well I can rest assured that you'll be prosecuted to the full extent of the law for your crimes against me. I'll have your badge, your job, your home, everything you hold dear will be mine."

Kort took another drag off the cigarette. Fuck, what a mess. "Tell me what you're thinking and allow me to make an informed decision. It may be that I actually do prefer incarceration over whatever scheme you've dreamed up."

Outside the door, Searcy O'Flannagan listened as the Director of NCI-whosiwhatsit explained exactly what she wanted the CIA man to do for her. She hadn't meant to listen in, but she'd been preparing to knock on the door when she heard them speaking and heard the sound of a well-placed slap. She'd placed several slaps of her own in her day, so she knew the sound well. Once she began listening to the story unfolding behind the closed door, she couldn't help herself. She listened as names were listed, quietly, along with the fates they would meet if the man complied with the woman's wishes. Her eyes widened as she realized she was witnessing a crime in the making and she wondered if she should report it. Wondered who you even report something like that to. Then again…these were, as the lady put it, a CIA agent and a "high ranking government official". Did she dare cross them? What would happen to her? Her house? Her children?

She decided to move beyond this particular room on this particular day and not mention it to anyone. She hid around the corner near the ice machine and watched as the couple left the room a few minutes later. The lady certainly looked like she was a high ranking government official. Bright red hair swept up elegantly and a smart suit with snappy shoes to go along with it. She looked horribly uncomfortable, as though she was ashamed to be here, as though she was fearful of being caught. And she wondered who those people were that were listed off. Were they federal agents? Criminals? Government workers? She'd heard a couple of the names before…watching the news and reading the headlines…she recognized that two of the names were definitely other NCIS Agents. Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Anthony DiNozzo. She'd heard of them. They had the best case solving rate of all the law enforcement agencies in Washington DC. But the others? Troy McGovern, Judy Aimes, Harold Gerber, Paula Cassidy…who were these people? What was their crime that this beautiful woman wanted them to die? Was this woman powerful enough to actually convince the CIA man to do it? Would he be the one to do it or would there be someone else involved that Searcy didn't know about?

She watched as they disappeared down the stairs, then unlocked their hotel room door and stood in the picture window, gazing down on them as they each climbed into separate cars—government issue navy blue and black—and drove away in separate directions.

She wondered if the CIA man would take her up on her offer, or if he'd rather go to jail.

Searcy didn't know about him, but she thought maybe being in jail would be better than owing that woman any favors.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_**Special Thanks**_ _to my beta, Gotgoats, who is still working, going to school, and being shamelessly pestered by me to read each chapter heheheh…Thanks!_

 **Author's Note:** I'm making my own little AU, so if events (real and fiction) don't seem to be happening in a chronological order that makes sense, that's probably why. Then again, this is me, and everybody knows I like to dink with the timelines.

 **Hit  
** **Chapter 2**

 _ **Seven months later…**_

Special Agent Tony DiNozzo threw his head back and his eyes fluttered shut as his body was filled with his partner, Supervisory Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He grunted in pleasure, unable to form words and his eyes fluttered shut under his enthusiastic lover's ministrations. His fingers scrabbled for purchase on Jethro's shoulders, but could find no purchase and his hands fell back listlessly to the pillow under his head, framing his face with a picture of wanton lust and adoration for his partner.

They would need to head back to work in a few hours; they'd been working nonstop for days, trying to figure out who was behind the deaths of the agents. Someone was killing agents and Jethro, Tony and their team wanted answers. Several hours earlier, Gibbs finally sent everyone home, telling them to rest up, recharge, and be back at their desks by 0800.

He'd pounced Tony almost the instant they walked in the door, and they'd been engaged in passionate coupling ever since. Their bodies were soaked with sweat, and Tony was fairly certain they'd need to change the bed before they tried to sleep in it.

But as their passion continued, Tony's thoughts started to drift. He loved Jethro, was a passionate lover and an eager participant in any of their carnal activities. But Tony couldn't help but wonder what was happening to the agents who were dying. They'd all been undercover. They were all well known, relatively high profile agents, damn talented and brilliant investigators. There didn't seem to be a particular pattern about the agents, other than the fact they were all undercover. They were being made, and they were being killed, and it bugged Tony tremendously.

They'd been working feverishly for several days now, ever since the body of the latest agent—the seventh agent to die in as many months—was found, left in a public place where they'd be sure to be found. Agent Eric Marcel was a relatively young agent, good young man with a high moral code and a face that blended easily into crowds only to be instantly forgotten. He did impressive undercover work, easily sliding into whatever role was asked of him. People often called him DiNozzo Jr. because of his undercover talents…but he'd been somehow made, brutally murdered, and left for dead. Tony had proudly, though unofficially, mentored the younger agent and was greatly affected by his passing.

Tony didn't think he'd get the image of the beaten and strangled young man out of his head any time soon.

He blinked in surprise when Jethro nipped the skin on his chest a little more sharply than normal. "Hey," Jethro looked up at Tony. He must have seen something on Tony's face or in Tony's eyes, despite his efforts to hide it.

He could never hide anything from Jethro.

"You ok?" Jethro asked, crawling up Tony's body and laying on top of his lover.

Tony forced a smile to his face and ran a hand down the back of Jethro's head. He loved his partner so much. He was so glad they didn't need to keep their relationship a secret anymore. With the fall of Don't Ask Don't Tell and the legalization of same-sex marriage, the two no longer felt it necessary to hide what had been there almost since the beginning. Ducky and Abby both smiled knowingly when they announced it to the team over dinner last year. Tony and Jethro suspected they'd both known for some time, but because they hadn't mentioned it, neither had their friends. Tim and Ellie were both a bit surprised. Palmer had also figured it out, but hadn't mentioned it because he wasn't sure. He was happy to know he was right.

"Hey," Jethro pinched Tony's nipple when he didn't answer. Tony blinked and frowned at him when it hurt a little. "What's going on in that head of yours, Tony?" Jethro murmured, one finger tracing a light pattern over Tony's forehead.

Tony's eyes slid shut in shame. "Sorry Jethro," he murmured. "I just…I can't stop thinking about Eric dying. Can't get it out of my head. I'm sorry," he shook his head and leaned up to kiss Jethro. He blinked in confusion when Jethro pulled back slightly. He didn't want to upset Jethro, knew they both needed to let off steam and outside of sparring in the gym this was the best way to do it, but…

"Why didn't you just say so?" Jethro rolled off of Tony and sat back against the headboard of their bed, tugging on Tony until he moved too, resting his head against Jethro's shoulder, one arm wrapped around the older man's waist.

Tony shrugged. "I dunno. Guess I thought if we…well I thought it'd get my mind off of it. Screwed that up," he said sheepishly.

Jethro ran his fingers through Tony's hair. "Just glad it's not something I did," he glanced down at Tony and winked when their gazes met. "You tired?"

"Not…really," Tony smiled and blinked owlishly as his words were broken by a yawn.

"We're going to find whoever's responsible for this. We're going to find them and we're going to nail 'em to the wall."

"I just…I can't help but think…maybe it's someone on the inside," Tony murmured. So far none of the evidence pointed to that. In fact, what little evidence they ever found, didn't really suggest anything at all. "And if it is someone on the inside, it'd have to be someone who has access to all of the records—how else would the killer or killers know which agents are undercover and where they are?" Tony yawned again. They'd been going for days. He settled a little heavier against Jethro and let his eyes slide shut. He was so tired.

Jethro tightened his arms around his partner slightly. "You think it's someone higher up and on the inside?"

"Mmmm," Tony hummed, now mostly asleep.

Something inside of Jethro loosened a bit and he hugged his partner tighter as Tony slid into sleep. Tony hadn't suggested his theory about a mole or about someone higher up being behind these deaths in the office. Jethro wondered at that, and wondered too, if that had anything to do with him being unsure of who might be listening. Director Sheppard was very interested in the investigation, but it was her agents who were dying—she _should_ be interested. But could there be more? Could she know something? Surely not, Jethro thought. Surely the Director of the agency wouldn't have any information on why her agents kept dying. Surely she wouldn't neglect to share if she did.

He had to have faith that they were missing something. The pieces weren't fitting together. There was one big piece in the center and it held the key to the whole case.

Jethro shifted down in the bed a bit and Tony raised his head and looked around curiously. He was so tired; dammit, he just wanted to sleep! Once Jethro was settled, he quickly pulled Tony back down into the embrace. "Shhhh," he breathed, "go back to sleep, it's ok. I was just shifting us a bit."

"Gotta keep working…" Tony mumbled, mostly asleep. "Gotta find 'em, Gibbs."

"We will," Jethro promised. "For now, we need sleep. Just rest."

Tony hugged Jethro a little tighter, not letting go as he finally drifted off. Jethro brushed a kiss against the top of Tony's head and let himself drift away also. Moments later, they were both sound asleep.

xxx

They'd barely been asleep for an hour when the call came in on Tony's phone. He groaned and rolled over, slapping blindly at the bedside table, looking for the phone without opening his eyes. Finally retrieving it, he flipped it open and pressed it to his ear, still not opening his eyes.

"D'n'zo," he mumbled. Beside him Jethro rolled over, spooning up behind him, and let out a long, sleepy sigh.

Tony was almost asleep again when the urgent words from the dispatcher broke through his fog and his brain snapped instantly awake and threw his body into motion. "What?! Where?! What time did they—we're on our way!" He snapped the phone shut and fairly bounded out of bed. "JETHRO GET UP! We've got another dead agent!" Tony was already half dressed.

Gibbs was dressed moments later and they quickly gathered their wallets, badges and guns before racing out the door. Tony paused briefly when his lungs caught the cold morning air and he felt the familiar tightening that occurred in cold weather ever since he'd had the plague. He didn't let it stop him though, hurried on to the car and whipped around when a hand suddenly grabbed his arm.

"Break it down for me Tony," Gibbs' voice was calm but urgent. Tony didn't know how he managed to pull that off. "What's going on? Where are we headed?" he handed Tony his NCIS windbreaker and the younger man slid it on without speaking of it.

"It's…c'mon we have to move! I'll tell you in the car! Oh God," Tony ran his hands through his hair, car door open, but his body not completing the motion of getting in the car.

Jethro took a step closer. Tony was beginning to panic. "Tony," he called out to him, hoping to pull him out of his headspace. "Tony!" When his partner still didn't answer him, Jethro whacked him firmly over the back of the head. "DINOZZO!"

Tony blinked and looked up at him. Jethro framed Tony's face with his sawdust roughened hands. "What is it Tony? Who died?"

"It's…oh God Jethro," Tony's eyes suddenly swam with tears and the expression on his face struck real, true fear in Jethro.

"Tony. Talk to me. Who is it? What happened?"

"It's Paula, Jethro. They found Paula Cassidy this morning. She's…she's been working undercover. She's…oh God—they found her…she's been beaten…strangled…just like—"

Just like all the others were.

Jethro pulled Tony into a tight embrace, knowing Tony was good friends with Paula. They'd always had the type of friendship that made all of their friends question whether they were screwing or not. Jethro knew they actually hadn't, but knew that Tony always enjoyed making people wonder. He also knew that he and Paula spoke on the phone every week.

"I talked to her last week," Tony breathed shakily. Jethro opened the car door and forced his partner to sit down before he fell down. "She said she was going undercover. I told her to be careful, what with all of the shit that's been happening here."

"What'd she say Tony?" Jethro asked.

Tony snorted and leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. "She said she was working in Gitmo, not in DC, and that I worry too much." Tony dragged his fingers roughly over his face. "Oh God. Oh Jethro oh God. Oh God, why does this keep happening?"

"Hey. Shhhh," Gibbs leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of Tony's head. "Gotta keep your wits Tony. We're going to find the person responsible. You can't panic. Paula needs us. She needs us to have our shit together and she needs us to find out who did this. She needs us to solve this for her. And we will. Now let's get in the car and head out. C'mon. I've got your six."

Tony suddenly hugged Jethro. "We have to watch each other Gibbs," he choked out. "I can't…we can't…we can't be next," Tony said. "We have to find who did this."

Jethro pulled back and looked at him. "Do you think we're targets?"

"They keep killing our friends…agents we're close to…agents we work with or mentor…agents we know…yeah I think we could be targets. I think any of us could be targets. Please, watch your six Jethro," Tony held onto the lapels of Gibbs's sport coat now, shaking him slightly. "Please be careful. I just…I have a feeling. I just want you to be careful."

Gibbs gently took Tony's hands and kissed him sweetly. "I will. And you will. And we're both gonna be fine. Now let's go. Call Ellie and Tim and wake their asses up and tell 'em where to go."

Tony swung his legs in the car as Gibbs ran around to the driver side and climbed in. Tony rattled off the address and moments later they were roaring down the road.

As they drove, Gibbs anger began to brew. Someone was targeting agents. They were doing it on purpose and with each new murder, it was becoming increasingly clear that it had to be the work of a mole, just as Tony thought but hadn't vocalized until only a short time earlier. Someone at NCIS had to be spilling secrets. Someone they worked with, someone they _trusted_ was setting agents up to die. His fingers gripped tighter on the steering wheel and a short glance to his right showed the grim line Tony's mouth had settled into and the anger that made his eyes flash like molten emeralds. Tony looked slightly ill and angrier than Jethro had ever seen.

This death, in particular, was especially personal. Tony and Paula were good friends.

Jethro knew he'd have to keep an eye on Tony. Have to watch his six even closer than normal, because this death had the potential to drive his partner to distraction. He'd either be entirely focused or entirely shattered as their well of information grew.

This was not a good situation. Gibbs' gut was roaring, and if he admitted it to himself, had been for quite some time. He had a horrible feeling that something wasn't right. They were missing something. They'd been looking in the wrong direction for all this time. Someone was trying to throw them off, but that was done now.

Gibbs wanted answers. And he wouldn't stop until he had them.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** So…yeah. Don't hate me.  
Goats is moving and working and still trying to go to school, so this chapter is mostly unbeta'ed. If you see a mistake, it's mine. Though I may blame it on Goats just for laughs. *snickers*

 **Hit  
** **Chapter 3**

 _ **Guantanamo Bay…**_

It was hot in Southern Cuba, despite the early autumn month. August had faded into September and was rapidly approaching October. Gibbs and his team of special agents had been at the naval station at Guantanamo Bay for two days and they were no closer to gaining information about the murder of their colleague than they'd been when they arrived. It seemed every lead they found fizzled and died; no one knew about the mission that Paula Cassidy was sent on prior to her murder. So far, no one had information about what she was looking for, where she was looking for it, what contacts she'd made or who could have possibly hurt her so severely. They were still looking for information, though, and they hadn't located her laptop or cell phone yet.

They'd sent her body back to Washington DC in order for Ducky to perform the autopsy shortly after their arrival. Gibbs offered for Tony to accompany Paula back to the States to make sure she arrived safely and untampered with, but Tony had shaken his head, almost insulted that Gibbs would even attempt to remove him from the investigation. Paula was his friend, and while he wanted to make sure her body was safe and well-cared for, he also wanted more than anything, to wrap his fingers around the throat of the sonofabitch who was responsible for her death. To ease Tony's tirade before he got started, Gibbs relented and sent Ellie Bishop back to Headquarters as escort for Paula's remains.

As the hours passed into the span of days now, Gibbs was growing very concerned about his partner.

Tony hadn't slept since they'd napped after their troublingly distracted sex a few nights earlier—just before the call came in about Paula. Gibbs knew he'd only eaten when he himself had forced Tony to stop and eat. He'd continued working, though, while swallowing nearly whole whatever food Jethro shoved at him. He hadn't made a movie reference in days and the shadows in his eyes were growing darker and uglier with each passing second. He'd been uncharacteristically short tempered with everyone in his path, channeling his "inner-Gibbs" as some of the other agents mumbled under their breath, working like a dog trying to break a chain, others commented. Gibbs silenced all of them with a look before Tony heard the comments, but somehow he didn't think his partner would take the time to even react to their observations.

"Hey Boss?" Tim McGee called out. It was sometime around dinner time on Sunday evening and they'd been scrounging for something—anything—for days. But late last night, one of the agents had discovered Paula's laptop and cell phone. They'd checked her call history and Tony was hard at work following up on the calls she'd made, while Tim worked his magic on the laptop, hoping to break through the encryptions the other agent had been smart enough to put into place before her demise.

Gibbs smiled at the security measures she'd taken. Paula was no dummy. Despite her snarkiness with Tony on the phone before going under, she had actually heeded his warning and had watched her six, and protected her investigation and evidence as much as she'd been able to—which was quite a lot. She'd encrypted it so tightly it had taken _McGee_ almost a full day to break through it. But now…

"McGee? Got something for us?" Gibbs glanced over his shoulder, frowning slightly when he saw Tony still hunched over the phone records, obviously hot on the trail of something. The lead agent was getting the sense that maybe, just maybe, they were about to blow this whole thing wide open.

His gut agreed; something big was about to go down.

"I have a whole lot of something!" Tim affirmed excitedly, nodding his head without taking his eyes off of the screen in front of him. "I'm not sure it makes a lot of sense yet, though."

"Read us in," Gibbs said, leaning over Tim's left shoulder, looking at the screen. "DiNozzo!" he called, but was met with an angry stare. "Come over here and check out what McGee's got."

"Wait a minute," Tony snapped, listening to something on his phone, holding up one finger. "I'm just…hold on a minute!"-

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, both at Tony's disrespect and his insubordination. He wondered for the hundredth time if he should bench his partner…and wondered if he'd have a partner left to unbench later if he did. He was aware of Tim looking at him in surprise at his reluctant tolerance of Tony's behavior, when Tony slammed the phone down and stood up, approaching them.

"I've got something," Tony said. "From the call history on Paula's phone—"

"Hold on. Tim, you first," Gibbs indicated that his partner should focus on what Tim found before turning his attention back to the phone call. Mostly he just wanted to give Tony a chance to pull back from the brink a little bit before launching into his discovery. Tim started to speak, but was cut off by Tony.

"But Boss! This is—" Tony sputtered in protest, only to be cut off by Gibbs.

"—It's just as important as what Tim found, however, Tim called it first," he said gently. His calm blue eyes met the mutinous green ones and leveled a stare at the younger man. He took a chance and reached out, putting gentle hands on Tony's tense shoulders. "I want to hear what you found too. But we have to take turns. You know this. It's all important. We all want to find out what happened to Paula, Tony."

Tony's face twisted into a snarl, which was becoming a more familiar expression on his face these last months of their friends dying, but nodded grimly and calmed under Gibbs' touch. "Fine," he spat, flopping himself down in a chair. He rubbed a weary hand over his forehead and Gibbs produced a candy bar, seemingly out of nowhere, and unwrapped it, passing it to Tony.

"Go Tim," Gibbs requested again. "Whatcha got?"

"I managed to break the encryption code on the documents on Paula's laptop," McGee said, typing quickly and trying to pull up several of the documents so he could show them to the others.

Tony stood up and took a bite out of the candy bar and chewed on it thoughtfully as he leaned over Tim's other shoulder, trying to see what the younger man had. Tim began explaining what each of the documents meant, what information they contained, and he finally pulled up the last document…an email from Director Sheppard, outlining the details on Paula's assignment.

"Wait a minute!" Tony exclaimed, leaning in even closer. "This makes so much more sense!" Before he could explain further, or indicate what it was he'd seen, though, the screen on the computer flickered once, then went dark and the computer began to make a strange noise. "Hey!" he complained, "Where'd it go?!"

"That's odd," Tim frowned, tapping buttons in an attempt to wake the laptop back up. "It was working fine…I wonder what—"

Gibbs realized what was happening before anyone else though and panic ripped through him. "BOMB! Hit the deck!" He roared. He picked up the laptop and turned as Tony and Tim hit the deck, trying to get out of the way. They didn't entirely understand what Gibbs was getting at, but if they'd learned anything in the years they'd worked with him, it was that if the bossman said to hit the deck, you sure as hell put your ass on the floor. Around them in the office, other agents and officials scurried for cover as well.

Gibbs desperately flung the laptop toward the window, but he was just a second too slow and a moment later it exploded and he was thrown backwards by the forceful blast.

"BOSS!" Tony watched in horror as Gibbs bounced off a desk and hit the floor with a sickening thud. He crawled on his belly towards his…his _everything_ …and sheltered him with his own body as the ceiling and wall came down on them. Thankfully the building they were in was only a single floor, so while plenty of debris fell on them, it was less severe than it would have been if they'd been in the bullpen in DC.

"Gibbs! Jethro? Can you hear me?" Gibbs' eyes were closed and Tony pawed slightly frantically at his partner, looking for injury, trying to check him for a pulse, and rouse him from his unconsciousness. He let out a breath of relief when he found the pulse, but frowned when he saw the cut along his partner's hairline, a sluggish trail of blood oozing its way down the side of his face. Tony pulled himself closer and put a hand on top of Gibbs' head, framing his body with his own and lowered his face down near Gibbs' ear. His lover's eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape, body entirely limp. It scared the hell out of Tony. If it wasn't for the shallow puffs of air Gibbs was breathing in and out, Tony would swear he was dead. He gulped audibly and pulled out his handkerchief. He pressed it gently to the cut on Gibbs' forehead, then began whispering in Gibbs' ear. "Jethro? Hey Gibbs? Boss can you hear me? Jethro?" He lightly slapped Gibbs on the top of the head in a pale imitation of the head slaps his other half was known to give out.

There was no response though. Gibbs didn't move and Tony felt his heart stutter slightly in his chest.

"No," he whispered. "I'm not going to lose you too." He laid his head down on Gibbs' chest for a single moment, letting himself wallow in the helplessness he felt for only a second, before he stood up. He let out a shrill whistle and his eyes flashed as he quickly checked over McGee, receiving a nod that he was unharmed. "Listen up," he bellowed, taking control of the situation. "We need an investigative team gathering evidence on this explosion. It originated from a laptop. We need ambulances for the wounded." Everyone seemed frozen in shock for a moment before Tony let out a long breath. "MOVE!" he yelled. He watched Tim pick up a phone and begin calling for an ambulance for Gibbs and nodded, pleased with the results.

He turned his attention back to Gibbs and knelt beside him again. "Help's on the way, Jethro," he said quietly to his partner. "We've got your six. You're going to be just fine. Come back to me." He pressed a quick kiss to his partner's dry lips and rested his forehead against Gibbs' for a long moment, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of his lover. He glanced over his shoulder at Tim for a moment and motioned him closer. "Stay with Gibbs," he ordered. "Tim's got your six, Jethro. I'm heading back to DC to keep working on this. I think I have a lead, but I need to follow up on it. I'll catch up with you soon, though. I love you," he whispered. He pulled back and looked at Gibbs' quiet face, feeling his rage rise to near boiling point. Tony gritted his teeth and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Tim sputtered. He was shocked that Tony would leave Gibbs now, but felt honored that the older man trusted him with his partner.

"Get Gibbs on the next flight back to Washington and call me when you land. I'm heading back to DC. This ends now."

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** It's amazing how much time one does not have during the holiday season…hoping to get back to some more regular posting now! ( **Second Author's Note** : Seeing as how it is now March and I have been a complete slacker…I have no good excuse.

Also, beware the ending…because I haven't done it in a while *evil grin*

 **Disclaimer** : I beta'd it. The mistakes are mine.

 **Hit  
** **Chapter 4**

It was a couple of days before Gibbs was able to catch a flight to DC with McGee, thanks to the concussion he was sporting from the explosion. The senior agent was livid when he woke in the hospital to find that one, he'd been blown up—again, two, he was in the hospital, and that three, Tony had run back to DC to pursue a lead without anyone watching his six. This kind of reckless behavior on his partner's part was not going to lead to anything positive, of that Gibbs was sure. He wondered again if it was getting too personal for Tony…wondered if he should bench him.

Finally Gibbs was given the ok to make the flight by the doctor and he and Tim caught the next flight back to the States, with all of the evidence they'd collected (that wasn't destroyed in the explosion) on board with them. Gibbs was proud of McGee when he learned that the younger man had stepped up and managed to retrieve the remains of Paula's laptop. He was confident there may be some way to still recover some of the information, but Gibbs didn't even try to understand the geekspeak that McGee used. Finally he told Tim to just go have a seat.

He'd heard murmurings around base about how Tony had taken charge of the investigation as soon as Gibbs was incapacitated. He didn't blink, didn't hesitate, just got in and got the job done. But it worried Gibbs because he knew what kind of headspace Tony was in _before_ he was blown up…he was fairly sure he wouldn't want to cross the younger man's path. He also knew that as Tony's direct supervisor, he needed to get his agent back under control before things really got out of hand. Part of him also felt a little jilted that his lover had passed him off to someone else and had run away when Gibbs was injured. He understood it, but there was that little small part of him that hoped if something ever happened that Tony would stay with him.

As they got closer to DC, Gibbs felt like he had a solid plan for how to handle Tony. His first order of business would be to feed Tony and make him take a nap. He knew that more than likely, the younger man would not have slept and would only have had a snack here or there in the past three days. Once Tony was fed and slightly better rested, Gibbs would then get information on the case. They would proceed from there. He knew he needed to help Tony keep his balance though; the young man was close to all of the agents who'd passed.

The plane slid onto the runway easily, and Gibbs had his phone out before the plane was even at a full stop. He quickly dialed Tony's number, needing to know where to go and meet him. He frowned when Tony's voicemail picked up, and his gut tingled slightly.

"Hey Tim?" he called. The other agent stopped collecting his bags and looked curiously at Gibbs. "You talk to Tony lately?"

To Gibbs' horror, Tim shook his head. "I talked to him the day of the explosion, but I've tried to reach him several times every day since, but it always just goes straight to voicemail. I tried to track his cell, but it's turned off."

Anger washed over Gibbs. "And you're just _now_ telling me this because…?"

McGee had the good sense to look ashamed. "Sorry Boss," he muttered.

Gibbs moved right into McGee's space. "You do realize there are agents who are disappearing? And when they do turn back up, they're turning up _dead._ You do get that, right McGee?"

Tim nodded nervously. "Yes Boss," he murmured. "I get it."

"Then explain to me why it is you didn't feel the need to share information like one of your own teammates being out of contact for over two days now? What the hell Tim!"

McGee's face tinted pink. "I just…well when he didn't answer…it's not like he's never done that…I mean, he always turns his phone off if he's working undercov…" Tim's voice trailed off. "You don't think he's been sent undercover, do you Boss?"

Gibbs whacked Tim hard over the back of the head. "I wouldn't know that, now would I, McGee?" He pulled out his cell phone. "I'm sure as hell going to find out though."

xxx

 _Two Days Earlier…_

Tony landed in DC and hit the road like a man possessed, driving back to NCIS. He'd seen something on Paula's phone record, confirmed it with the other phone records they had for the other dead agents back in DC, and it was all pointing to one giant colossal fact that they'd apparently missed each time.

Each of the dead agents called the same person right before they went missing.

Each of them called Director Sheppard.

Tony wondered how he could still consider himself an investigator, since he'd missed that each time before. But ya know it wasn't something that really stood out, because everyone who went undercover at NCIS called a supervisor at some point. Tony had called Gibbs on multiple occasions; Gibbs had called Sheppard before while he was undercover. It did happen; it wasn't completely unheard of…and yet…

Tony had learned from Gibbs not to believe in coincidences.

He barged into NCIS, more angry than he'd been in a long time. He was pissed that his friends kept dying, pissed that his lover was unconscious in the hospital (he made a mental note to check in with Tim on Gibbs' condition as soon as he finished speaking with the Director), and very pissed that they'd missed this possibly key bit of information for over seven months now. But he'd checked and re-checked the reports. They were very clear and each of them showed that the last contact any of them made with anyone was Director Sheppard.

"I need to see the Director," Tony all but snarled at Cynthia. "It's a matter of life and death."

"She's in a meeting, Agent DiNozzo," Cynthia said patiently. She'd heard stories of Tony and his newly found ill-temper. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to wait a few minutes. You can't go in there right now."

Tony looked at her mutinously for a long moment, before letting out a breath. "Fine," he said shortly. "I will be at my desk. Would you mind to please let her know I need to speak with her as soon as possible?"

Cynthia smiled sympathetically. It was no secret around NCIS why Tony was acting the way he was. "I will Tony. I'll let her know as soon as she's available."

"Thanks Cynthia."

It wasn't long before Director Sheppard emerged from her office and received Cynthia's message. With a dark smile, she moved to the railing overlooking the bullpen. Tony was at his desk, on the phone, looking tremendously annoyed. "Agent DiNozzo," she called loudly, gaining the attention of every agent in the office. Tony looked up at her, quickly ending the call. "May I see you in my office?" she nodded toward the door with her head and moving back to her office without looking to see if he was following her.

If she had looked, she would have seen the voice recorder that Tony quickly cued up and put into his pocket.

A few moments later, Tony joined Jenny in the office. Anger washed over him anew as he thought of his friends, his dead friends, calling this woman—why? For help? To let her know they'd been made? And to what end! Did she send help? Was she too late in responding? Did she even respond?

"Please," Jenny said with a saucy smile, "have a seat," she indicated the overstuffed couch in the corner of her office.

"Thanks but I'd rather stand. I have a question for you, Director," Tony said evenly.

Jenny crossed her arms. "All business today I see?"

"As you should be ma'am. Your agents keep dying," Tony said sweetly.

"What is your question, Agent DiNozzo?" Jenny said, bristling.

"Each of the agents who have been found dead have one thing in common."

"Is that a question?" Jenny snarked.

"The thing they all have in common is that right before they disappeared they each contacted you. You are the link to each of them."

"I'm still not hearing a question," Jenny replied.

"Can you explain that to me?" Tony snapped. "There's a question. I want to know why you were the last person each of them spoke with before they died. Each of the phone records indicates that the last calls made on each of the phones, was made to your personal cell phone."

"I don't think I owe you any explanations," Jenny said. "But what I do have, is a lead on who is killing the agents. However, we need more information."

"This is sounding suspiciously like you are about to send me undercover," Tony groused.

"It shouldn't take you too long to get the information. Besides, it's vital we find the person responsible for killing our agents. And this is our best hope of securing the information we need to bring that person to justice."

"I'm working with Gibbs and the team on this investigation," Tony said. "We need to read him in on this."

"Agent Gibbs, from what I understand, has been injured in the field. Is that correct?" Jenny asked.

"Yes, he has a concussion from an explosion. He should be returning to the States in a couple of days. He has to wait to fly."

"We don't have time to wait. This window won't last forever. We need to move now."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "I don't think I like this," he hedged. His gut was telling him that this was a bad idea. He did not need to be sent undercover without someone knowing where he was going to be.

"Don't you want to find out who's responsible for killing the agents, Tony?" Jenny asked innocently.

"I'm not sure I don't already know," Tony said tightly.

"Well you will need this information to know for sure," Jenny said. "So you will go undercover to get it and then we will move forward. Think of how proud of you Gibbs will be when you crack the case!"

"I want you to read him in."

"No. This is need to know and right now, he needs to focus on getting over his concussion. He'll be in contact once he's back in the States, I'm sure. It's even possible that you would be able to be in and out before he's even returned. But the window of opportunity is small if we're going to insert you. We need to do it now."

"I will need enough time to go home and reload my go-bag," Tony said. "With us travelling, it needs to be refilled."

"You have two hours. Then I want you to report back here to me and we will move on this."

Tony didn't like it. Not one bit. "Fine," he said shortly. "I'll be back in two hours."

xxx

Of the two hours Tony spent away from the office, only a few moments of that time was spent actually refilling his go-bag. The rest of the time was spent with Tony working on the computer in Gibbs' house, meticulously outlining what he'd learned of the phone records, what he learned (or didn't learn) from his conversation with Jenny, downloading the file of his conversation with Jenny from the voice recorder, and carefully sewing the voice recorder into the pocket of the cargo pants he would wear undercover. This would enable him to continue to record his conversations with Jenny while she was reading him in on the op and would hopefully allow him to help break the case open—whether he made it out alive or not. He saved the files under innocent enough looking file names, and put them in a folder on the desktop labelled "Vacation Pictures".

Gibbs was sure to recognize the new folder, was sure to know that he hadn't gone on any vacations with Tony that resulted in any pictures being on the computer. Tony knew that hiding stuff in plain sight like that was the way to go. If it looked like they were hiding something, it would draw suspicion.

Based on the information in the phone records and coupled with how evasive Jenny was in her office, Tony was now absolutely convinced that if Jenny was not directly responsible for the agents' murders, she at the very least knew who _was_ and she was covering for them. He wondered why. He wondered if she was being blackmailed or if she was the master puppeteer behind the whole thing.

Before he left the house, he took one last look around, pressed his face into Gibbs' pillow for only a brief moment, and inhaled the scent of his lover, then moved to the coffee pot where he scrawled out a quick sticky note and stuck it to the machine. It was the one place where he knew Gibbs would absolutely go.

 _J— I put the pictures from our vacation on the computer like you asked me to. —T._

No one needed to know it was code language. No one needed to know that Gibbs would understand what it meant.

At least, Tony hoped that Gibbs would understand what it meant. His life may depend on it.

xxx

 _Present Day_

"Jenny Sheppard," the director answered, Gibbs' call.

" _It's me,"_ Gibbs said. _"Have you talked to DiNozzo?"_

"No," Jenny said. "I haven't talked to him in a couple of days. Not since he was in the office last." Which was entirely true…

" _He's not answering his phone,"_ Gibbs growled. _"Do you know anything about that?"_

"Agent Gibbs are you having difficulty keeping up with your people?"

" _I could ask you the same question, Madame Director_ ," Gibbs sneered. _"You're the one whose agents keep dying."_

"That was a low blow Gibbs. I'm very concerned about this situation. I'm sure Agent DiNozzo will turn up."

" _You'd better hope so. I'm not entertained by not being able to contact my agents."_

"You make it sound as though I have something to do with that."

" _I'm not convinced you don't have something to do with a lot of things,"_ Gibbs said in a resigned tone.

"Goodbye Agent Gibbs," Jenny said, slamming the phone down quickly as though it would bite her. She stared at it for a long moment before picking up her cell phone. She quickly dialed a number and spoke urgently when the person on the other end answered.

"The timeline just shrank considerably. We need to move on this now. You know where to find him and what to do."

xxx

Gibbs insisted that Tim take him back to the house rather than the office. He knew that if Tony was sent undercover, he'd likely have stopped by the house before leaving out, if for no other reason to refill his go-bag. Tim followed his boss into the two story house and he fought the urge to roll his eyes when Gibbs headed straight for the coffee pot. Gibbs' addiction to caffeine was legendary, but it surprised him that he would stop to make a pot of coffee when Tony was unaccounted for.

Gibbs' hand hovered near the coffee pot as he read the message scrawled onto the neon orange paper. He blinked once then turned around so suddenly that McGee let out a squeak of surprise. "Get on my computer and find the vacation photos," he said.

Tim blinked, having no idea what Gibbs was talking about. He moved to Gibbs' computer and quickly booted it up. Gibbs entered the password for the desktop and they both raised their eyebrows in surprise when they saw the file on the plain green desktop labeled "Vacation Pictures".

"There," Gibbs pointed, "that's the file. Tony left us information inside of it. Hiding in plain sight. Good boy, Tony. Good work," he murmured, almost to himself. "Get to work on it Tim; figure out what he is trying to tell us."

He rose from the seat and let Tim take over the computer, and completed his trip to the coffee pot. He quickly set it to brew and then moved to the bedroom. He ran a hand over the pillow Tony used, wondering if his partner was safe, wondering if he was still alive. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed again, hoping for an answer, but knowing he wouldn't get one. When Tony's voicemail picked up again, Gibbs decided to let his partner know that his message had been received. "Hey Tony, it's me. Got the pictures from our vacation. Tim is really enjoying himself looking them over. He's never going to quit picking on us. Call when you can."

He closed the phone and nearly jumped out of his skin when it immediately began to ring. Gibbs quickly noted that Tony was calling. "Hello?" he answered congenially, not knowing who was calling—if it was actually Tony or someone else—and not knowing if anyone else was listening in. He decided to play it safe.

Tony took off talking a million miles a minute and Gibbs quickly understood that Tony was speaking in code and that he was trying to give him an important message. He grabbed a pad and put the phone on speakerphone.

" _Hey Jay it's me. I just wanted to let you know that those plans we_ _ **made**_ _for this weekend with Jenny and her friends have changed and things are moving a lot faster than we originally thought. I've_ _ **made**_ _contact with a new player, someone who's apparently a real_ _ **killer**_ _at this game. I wanted to let you know that in case the game changes even more, I've been keeping score the whole time and I've discovered the secret for how to win…you can easily pick up my points and continue without me. I know we were originally supposed to meet up soon, but it looks like I might not make it back in time. If you need to reach me, send me a text with the message_ _ **9-1-1**_ _and I will know that it's important and will get back in touch with you. For now I am hiding out. I'm back at my old stomping grounds—you know the place. If you need the address I'm at_ _ **911 Trenton Court**_ _. Oh shit, he's here I gotta go—"_

"RUN A TRACE ON TONY'S PHONE!" Gibbs roared at Tim, picking up the pad and his car keys. "Do it on your mobile so we can get to him in a hurry. LET'S MOVE!"

Tim had just finished backing up the "vacation pictures" to his phone and rushed out to the car behind Gibbs, confused about where they were heading. "Boss where are we going, we don't even know where Tony is yet?"

"I know exactly where he is," Gibbs muttered. "But I want you to trace his phone just in case I'm wrong. And be discreet Tim. I don't want Director Sheppard to know what we're doing."

Tim blinked and quickly resumed fastening his seatbelt, even as he tried to hold onto the cell phone which was still triangulating the signal from Tony's phone. "You think she knows who's doing it?"

"I think she's the one ordering the hits," Gibbs muttered. "And I think she's got one out on Tony."

Tim grunted as the car left the ground as Gibbs flew over a small incline, crashing back down onto all four wheels as he slung the car onto the Beltway heading for Baltimore.

"I have the signal, Boss," he reported. Tim rattled off an address which Gibbs immediately recognized as Tony's old apartment building.

"Sonofabitch," he muttered. He pushed the car harder, red lining it all the way. He knew Tony was in danger; could feel it in his gut. Tony was hurting; they were killing him, and Gibbs was too far away to stop it.

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

**Violence Warning** : Hold onto your hats! But keep in mind, this is not a major character death story. :)

Not beta'd. Mistakes are mine.

 **Hit  
** **Chapter 5**

They were going to be too late, Gibbs just knew it. He pressed the accelerator to the floor, not daring to take his eyes off the road, not looking at the speedometer as the needle rose well past 70…80…90 miles per hour. In the seat beside him, Tim tried to inconspicuously hold onto the door handle, but even out of the corner of his eye, the senior agent could see the white knuckled grip.

"What are in the files Tony left for me, McGee?" Gibbs asked in a clipped tone. Now was not the time for bullshit.

"Phone records," Tim replied. "And a sound file with a recording of Jenny and Tony having a conversation. She sent him undercover, Boss. Under the guise that she has a lead on the murders and wants to close the case as quickly as possible."

"I'll just bet she does," Gibbs grumbled.

The cars tires squealed as Gibbs expertly maneuvered the car off the Beltway and onto the 4 lane highway which would lead to the apartment complex where Tony lived before moving to DC. He'd visited the apartment only one time, several years earlier. It was there he'd offered the younger man a position on his team.

He barely got the car thrown into Park before ripping the keys from the ignition and tearing off for Tony's apartment. He raced up the steps, noting how much the building had deteriorated since Tony moved out. In fact, if Gibbs had a guess to make, he'd wager that the building was mostly, if not completely empty now.

Tim was hot on his heels and nearly slammed into the back of him as he stopped suddenly at one of the doors. Gibbs pulled his gun and raised one finger to his lips and looked at Tim. Tim pulled out his own service weapon and took the safety off of it. He held up a finger to his own lips, confirming that he'd received the message loud and clear. This would be a quiet entry, not a loud or brash one.

The idea for a quiet entry went out the window, though, immediately following the sound of the gunshot coming from inside the apartment.

xxx

Tony nearly laughed out loud at Jenny when she told him where she wanted him to go. It was too easy. He was obviously the bait for some form of insidious activity. He sat in his apartment and listened carefully to the phone conversation Jenny had with Trent Kort immediately following his departure from her office. He was glad that the bug he'd placed was working properly. Thankfully, Jenny overplayed her hand and actually turned her back on him, allowing him the opportunity to surreptitiously hide the monitoring device.

He knew that Trent was coming to Baltimore. Knew that more specifically, Trent was coming after him. Though it sounded a bit more like this was all Jenny's big scheme and Trent was the muscle behind it. He wondered how she'd managed to get the CIA man wrapped so tightly around her finger.

He knew Gibbs would likely be back in the States by now, and knew that with all these agents turning up dead, the likelihood of him living through whatever was going to happen was pretty slim. He wanted to make sure he did not die in vain though. He wanted to make sure the path to Jenny and Kort was as clear as possible so Gibbs could bring them—and any unknown players—down. This madness had to stop.

Tony checked his weapons again; he had his duty weapon, his backup revolver in the ankle holster, pocket knife, belt knife, belt…he could inflict a great deal of damage if the situation called for it. After securing all of his weapons back into their hiding spots, he glanced out the window and his eyes widened. Trent must have already been on his way here, because he was getting out of the car, carrying some kind of bag with him. It looked like a duffle bag and Tony wasn't sure at all that he wanted to hang around to find out what sort of items he bore in the bag. He pulled out his phone, knowing he needed to let Gibbs know what was going on and knowing that he was out of time.

His heart leapt in joy and relief when Jethro answered the phone, but Tony didn't take time for pleasantries or declarations of love. He was out of time and needed to convey the information. He launched into a coded message that he really hoped more than anything Gibbs would be able to parse out. He talked about being made, mentioned 9-1-1 a few times, tried to throw Jenny and Trent's names in to put Gibbs on the right trail. But he knew he had to let it go when he heard the lock on the door rattling.

"—oh shit he's here I gotta go!" Tony quickly disconnected the phone. He knew this apartment like the back of his hand. He wondered at the outset why Jenny wanted him to come back here, but once he realized that the dilapidated building was probably completely empty, a slight twinge of fear erupted in his gut. Not only did he have no one watching his six (except the people who wanted him dead) but in this building, even if he was able to scream for help he'd not be heard.

The door rattled before finally the lock snapped under the force of the kick from the door. When Kort was unable to open the door (Tony locked all of the available locks), he merely kicked the whole thing in. Tony kept himself hidden, trying to give himself as much of an advantage as he was able to. The layout of the apartment included an open floor plan between the kitchen and living areas, with only a small wall separating them. Tony positioned himself behind the wall in such a way that he could see into the living room. But he couldn't see Kort. He knew the slimy bastard was here somewhere, but without making his own presence known, it was impossible to check.

Tony glanced back over his shoulder and movement in the corner of his eye had him ducking just as Kort moved in with a garrot, hoping to strangle him from behind. Tony ducked out of the way, a sweeping kick bringing Kort to the floor with a loud, solid thump. Tony pounced immediately, growling and pressing his gun against the side of Kort's jaw. "What are ya doin' here, Trent?" he asked in a jovial tone, forcing a smile to his face. "You scared the shit outta me!" He knew he needed to play dumb. He wasn't supposed to know that Kort was here to kill him. He wasn't supposed to know anything about anything at this point. With knowledge comes power, though, and Tony was determined not to tip his hand too soon, not to let Trent know just how much Tony had read himself into the situation.

Trent smiled. "You're a good actor, Agent DiNozzo. It is too bad for you. No one will be around to see your final performance."

Tony smacked Trent hard in the face with his gun and moved back when the other man didn't immediately move. "Doubtful," Tony mumbled. "I don't think today's my last performance." Maintaining his cover, he continued, "and correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you supposed to be one of the good guys?"

"The days of good and bad have long since passed," Kort muttered as his eyes fluttered open. He rolled to his stomach and spit out a tooth, knocked out by Tony's strike with the gun. "You see…the lines have become fuzzy. It is sometimes difficult to tell who is on the side of good."

"Isn't that the truth?" Tony sneered.

Kort raised himself to his feet and wiped a hand over the back of his mouth. "You sonofabitch," he grumped, "You knocked my damn tooth out!"

"Why were you sneaking up behind me? Why were you going to garrote me?" Tony snapped, his gun still in hand, still itching to fire a kill shot. He was not in the mood to die today.

"I told you the lines have become fuzzy. I thought it would be a quick and mostly painless way for things to close for you."

"You thought wrong," Tony said, not taking his eyes off of Trent. "Keep your hands where I can see them." Tony was internally begging for Gibbs to arrive. He needed someone to watch his six. No one knew where he was though; no one knew he was missing. God he'd fucked up so bad. He should have stayed in Cuba with Gibbs until his partner was able to fly. So stupid. So stupid.

He got so caught up in his line of thinking that he all but missed Kort approaching him. The other man swung a hard right hook that Tony didn't quite get out of the way of. It was enough to knock him off balance and this time, Trent Kort was on top. Tony was at a serious disadvantage. He needed help. He had no leverage in the position he was lying in. He needed to figure out how to get Kort off of him. He bucked his hips furiously, struggling against the hands holding him down.

"You're a fighter," Kort observed as his prey struggled under him. "The others, they didn't fight so hard." He smiled a bloody smile, his mouth still dripping where the tooth had been.

"The others?" Tony asked. That's it, keep talking you bastard. Let me record it all. The recorder he'd carefully sewn into his clothes was still functioning properly at his last check. He hoped it would survive whatever was to come.

"Come, come now. Feigning ignorance does not become you," Trent scolded. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Not that you'll live to tell anyone what you know."

"What makes you – arggghhh – think I haven't already told someone?" Tony groaned when Trent hit him hard. He had to keep this fight going. He had to hold on til Gibbs got there. Gibbs. He hoped Gibbs was safe.

The two continued rolling and wrestling on the floor, trading blows and barbs until Trent managed to get his hand on a loose phone cord. He quickly wrapped it around Tony's neck and tightened it. Tony struggled, flailing like a fish out of water, but Trent remained just out of reach. Tony fought and struggled, but he seemed unable to get free. Just when he thought he'd pass out, just when his limbs didn't feel like they'd move anymore though, Trent released the garrote. "There we go," Trent murmured when Tony dropped listlessly to the ground. He rolled Tony to his back and was pleased to see Tony unable to struggle much. He was sucking in air like a drowning man and Trent was content to let him be for a moment.

Tony's eyes were filled with tears from the exertion of the struggle. He blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision, trying to breathe. It felt like Trent had hurt his throat, but now was not the time to focus on what hurt (everything hurt)—now was the time to bring the dirty rat bastard down so he wouldn't be able to kill anyone else. He wondered how long they'd been fighting, wondered how long it would take Gibbs to arrive. He knew Gibbs would come; Gibbs always had his six. He just needed to stay alive long enough to give him time to get there.

He heard a noise coming from outside the apartment and shifted his gaze slightly towards the door, hoping beyond all hope that he'd see Gibbs there. The momentary distraction was all that it took for Trent to get one lucky punch in…and he punched Tony right in his throat. Pain erupted and spread like flame as Tony staggered back, suddenly unable to breathe through his damaged throat. He gasped and choked, his eyes bulging with fear. He needed air. He was vaguely aware of yelling and more struggling, then he was suddenly falling and Trent was hovering over him. Tony saw his attacker smile down at him. He thought again that he heard Gibbs shouting and closed his eyes when he felt Trent push the barrel of his handgun against his forehead. A sudden coughing fit erupted from Tony, causing his entire body to jerk and it threw Kort off balance. The gun slid off of Tony's forehead, scraping and rubbing and landing with a thud on his shoulder, just as Trent pulled the trigger.

The bullet that was meant for Tony's brain shattered his right shoulder; Tony was sure he'd never felt pain like that. His right arm immediately flopped uselessly to the floor; Tony still coughed and gagged, trying to suck in a breath of air around his damaged throat, but seemed unable to. He was vaguely aware that Trent Kort was no longer on top of him; had been dragged off of Tony and Gibbs was currently beating the shit out of him.

Tim knelt beside Tony, taking off his NCIS Windbreaker and pressing it to Tony's shoulder. Tony winced in pain and let out a low whine. He was proud he made any sound at all! He thought he heard Gibbs tell McGee to trade with him, and then suddenly McGee was replaced by Gibbs. Gibbs was kneeling over him, putting gentle but firm pressure on his shoulder, the other hand was lightly caressing Tony's throat checking for damage. Tony was still gasping and he clawed wildly at Gibbs' arm, trying to get the message across that he was unable to breathe.

"Ok," Gibbs was murmuring. "It's ok, we're ok. We got him. I've got you. He isn't going to hurt you anymore. You have to stay with me now, Tony. Focus on your breathing. Try and calm down so you can take a deep breath."

Gibbs just didn't understand how much Tony was not able to calm down right at the moment, though, and the younger man continued to gasp and wheeze. Gibbs pulled out his phone and quickly dialed a number with one hand and shoved the phone between his ear and shoulder. He continued talking to Tony softly, murmuring reassurances, checking him for further injury.

Tony was vaguely aware of Trent Kort yelling and McGee yelling over him to shut the hell up.

There was the whine of an ambulance and more yelling. Gibbs stayed right by Tony's side. Tony thought he heard Gibbs tell the EMTs that he was under protection, but he wasn't sure. Someone slid an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. For an instant his eyes widened as it became even more difficult to breathe, but then the air rushed into his body and he shivered in delight at the sensation of having air. Shivering brought a huge spike in the pain in his shoulder. He wasn't sure, but he didn't think he could feel his arm and he wondered vaguely if he still _had_ his arm. That thought scared him and he gasped…which started the whole process over again.

Through it all, Gibbs remained steadfastly by his side. He tried to ground Tony with touch as much as he was able, putting a hand on his ankle, his knee, touching his hand, doing whatever he could to reassure his partner that he wasn't alone. On his way to Baltimore, Gibbs had made a phone call to Tobias Fornell. He showed up in the middle of all the chaos, for which Gibbs was extremely grateful; now he could stay with Tony and McGee had help to handle that slippery bastard. He wasn't sure who to trust within the NCIS community at the moment, until he saw how deep this mess went. He knew he could trust Fornell though. Fornell was faithful like Tony, even if he played for another team.

The EMTs got Tony loaded into an ambulance—more pain, more lights and loud noises, more yelling—and finally, finally they were on their way to the hospital. Tony was still struggling to take in air and he'd witnessed more than one concerned gaze being passed back and forth between Gibbs and the EMT working on him. He wondered if he was dying, but vaguely recalled Gibbs giving him an order not to die. But was that a long time ago? Did it still apply now?

A lighter than normal headslap jolted him and got Tony's attention. He blinked bleary eyes up at his partner who smiled down at him. "Don't have my permission Tony," he said softly. "You just keep hanging on. Everything is going to be ok."

Tony closed his eyes. He was sure Gibbs had never lied to him before…he wondered why he would start now.

TBC…


End file.
